Never thought all this could backfire
by yuss
Summary: You tell lies to everyone, I deceived myself. We both live in illusions. Our life is a pointless fight, where we are chained together. But there are an irony that neither me nor you dare to break these chains. (AU, Sebastian/Ciel high and low)
1. Chapter 1

**Pairings:** Sebastian/Ciel mainly, some Seb/Harcourt, Ciel/Harcourt and Alois/Ciel occasionally.

**Disclaimer:** Toboso has everything. I remain only with my OCs.

**Warnings: **slash, hebefilia in any case, OOC, AU, random original characters, profanity, Cockney rhytming slang, angst, evilness, madness, some more madness, physical and mental abuse, raping, lemon, kinky stuff, and death.

**Spoilers:** Some spoilers for the Jack the Ripper arc, the season 1 and Alois' pasts.

**Comments:** The title came from the song of Placebo – My sweet prince. You'll be warned about all the porn scenes. And I need a beta.

Chapter 1.

'...Just imagine a man walking along the street: about thirty years old, neat and tidy, and quite good-looking. But he is downcast with something, and sorrow is recognized in his eyes. He takes out of the pocket a big finger ring off and on, beholds it for a few seconds, and puts it away with yearning, over and over again. He's just walking and not noticing anyone, only weening about his own something. How do you reckon: where are his thoughts? Which thing can keep him on the alert so badly?..'

It was a part of the letter of my long-time pal, a person with rich vocabulary and extreme dedication to psychology. Young and reckless, I couldn't come up with nothing and just didn't take it seriously. Well, it's impossible to get at others' pain before conceiving it yourself, and now I know it better than anybody else.

Have I ever thought all this could backfire? I've only changed the mind, turned down that dreadful aims, but they've become real and hideous, and this reality will shark me slowly, making me pray for return of the time. I killed the demon, inflicting a vital wound for myself.

Our story started in one distinct of London, on Feb 20th, 2009, but there would be nothing without Dec 14th, 1996, and of course Sep 1st, 1977.

* * *

Sebastian was the name of the baby born in Michaelis' family on the first autumn day. He wasn't a firstling of his mum who left two small daughters to her ex-husband. But, to the surprise, that non-native kin were more pleased with new birth than his own father. That's why my determitation took its place so early.

Shame of my mum! How could she trade a shiny Frenchman, the retired sailor, so talented and cheerful person for a weak and dimwitted school teacher? These people had laughed on me, I was sure. And I figured that my dark and slim appearence, utterly inherited from the father, wasn't the best joke. Seriously, the same big height, thin facial features, black hair, narrow eyes and evil grin. Maybe it was not bad, but being a clon of a grisly, bossy guy had never rejoiced me.

Mum accepted my objection to the natal base as she always did with her usual aloofness. The home of Henri and the sisters, a brick and three-storeyed house, became the site where I hasted to get back. No rows, no ennui, no apartness, but everyday music, picnics, photography, games of chance, love and joy of life. Smiles of pretty Rachel, dreamy Anne and their kind Dad brightened up my childhood and ousted parents' sour faces and teachers' past all bearing screams.

I want to notice that each sister has got the temper from one parent, and the look from the other. I remember elder Rachel as a buoyant girl like her Dad, and she's had a sweet fair shape like mum's. Younger Anne — Angeline actually, — poor Anne was envious of the sis, and why? Fragile figure, hair of a honey color and gentle sight of big blue eyes were _lovely_ of course, and Rachel was _lovely_ herself, but Anne didn't admit her special _magnificence_. And don't even try to say there are no difference between _lovely_ and _magnetic_. The thing called 'beauty' isn't similar to 'allure', has nothing to do with 'attraction' and doesn't echo 'charisma', trust me. What _lovely_ people are? You find them good for heart, you want to greet and make friends with them. Have you ever look back at a person on the street or in public transport? They all are _lovely_, and you'll agree with me, and you've smiled to them, haven't you? But do you remember anyone now? Don't you think so? Everything is all right, because it's hard to keep in mind somebody among hundreds of alike _lovely_ people you meet daily. But a _magnetic_ human can't doze off so fast: his rare image won't disappear from your head for so long that almost forever, and no doubt you will be in their web soon. But as I have said, the biggest problems of most of them are groundless complexes. Than more enticing a person is, so low his self-esteem will be. Feeling like a someone ugly and dry as a chip, they often dwell in sad thoughts and regrets, and have a pessimistic view of the world. That's what Angeline has been, a glaring but pensive woman, fiery 'Madame Red', how she's been called by everyone except me and Rachel.

I was fifteen when Henri had gone aloft and had betrayed his adult daughters. Nobody suspected that he would sell the house to incident people and put out Anne and Rachel. Our meetings reduced to a minimum, and I returned to parents for next ten years. I hadn't any special skills, so the culinary college and housekeeping courses were quite good. The period from sixteen to twenty-two was marked by chaotic style of living with kick-ups, riding a motorbike and promiscuity, which was the least absorbing side among all of them by the way. I haven't ever known such a dull exercise like promiscuity with huge drunk lassies; and I've come to the sence only with my first job.

Twenty-two-years-old guy like me, so soigne and polite, and too easy on the eye when was worn into butler' tails, attracted that rich but unfuzzy franchise. They were typical enough: an opulent flat, a little staff of skiwy and five children in need of attention. To my amazement, the maids, the hostess and the quartette of her daughters weren't interested in me, but a cute puny son pulled me on his room promtly. He was eleven, alone, bookwarm, always sick, and everybody considered him as a subnormal one. A new nunky in the house became a close friend for whom he might tell about Molly that was making-up already, or about Peter, a nasty bully who had conked a snotter Ed; and that big black man would never gossip. While cuddling, he was often lisping:

"Mr. Sebastian, when I get older, you'll live with me and make your cakes. And I'll pay you a lot of money and let you do everything you want. What do you want, Mr. Sebastian?"

"You—", I was answering in shame, but he was bursting out laughing, and snuggling to me nearer. I blushed all day long after those scenes, and tried to crash that mad idea. "He's a child, what moment have you started to love children so much from?" I argued to myself without avail. What did engage me: his innocence, looks, naivety, faith to me? "What in the world are you thinking, which faith may be if you don't hold back?"

But it _was_ faith in fact. I haven't remember the process, only before and after that. He said to a fat guest "I love Mr. Sebastian" when he'd asked about the favourite member of the family. Then I whispered to him, sobbing and tempting, "You won't tell anybody, will you? —". Of course, I was afraid to go to prison with infamy, but that fear turned into nothing in a minute; I hugged him at least and just understood I didn't feel at him anything absolutely. The passion died, the faith died; he died too, from burning ague after two days. I was keeping his tiny hand in mine, before it ran cold. Nobody discovered my guilt, I made myself scarce and— introduced to another home. In 2002 I handed over my empty apartment, start to travel about the country, and homicide again. Babies in the wood, they totally falled with me and believed me thanks to my talent of captivating. When I was allowed to something more, the credence moldered away as such as I wanted. For ten years I enjoyed ravishing and devouring. What a gorgeous act it was! Breaking trust, breaking love, breaking character, and watching the intoxation and, in fine, dying. And the causer is me, me, me. My work. My vocation. My life at all (it was).

* * *

The midday of Feb 20th, 2009, was suprisingly clear and cool, but crowds made it moody as usual. I lived in native London for a couple of months after the seven-year journey. I was escaping from the platitude, changing jobs, habitations and partners, whilst I awake that new platitude. My tenats, old marrieds, conveyed a decent sum diring this time, and I laughed I could not work henceforth. The managers of the teens' cafe, where I fagged for last three weeks, thought the same way. The cafe was closed, and I became tiresome of idleness.

I stopped at the traffic lights, and payed attention on a red blur in the grey city mob. No, it wasn't a traffic signal. A red-haired woman in red coat with two red suitcases was exploring a bulletin board. I decided not to wait and hailed:

"Anne! Angeline!"

I was sure that my sisters would be glad to see me, and I didn't slipped up. So _magnetic_ woman couldn't be confused with anybody else. Anne recognised me too. Her face shined with happiness.

"Sebastian! So unexpected!"

We embraced each other.

"Oh, you've gained in strength for the years!" she noticed.

"And you're better and better, sis".

"Stop it, you", she giggled. "How long are you there? Or you're going to depart again?"

"No, I live in parent home since New Year. And you? Labouring for saving lives?"

"Of course, brer, what else should I do?"

"And Rachel? Do you live together now? I haven't received your letters for ages".

Anne withered at once and bowed the head.

"Rachel and Vincent—" Her voice became weak. "They died on December 2006. There was a fire in their house. They both didn't get out".

My Rachel?.. Please no, you don't say so! She, she couldn't!..

"Do tell— I'm very sorry. I haven't contact with you", I looked away.

"I think the house was set fire to it. Vincent had lots of foes", Anne whismered.

Rachel's husband? Oh, yes, I recall nim.

We've met only once, but his double-dealing looks have stayed in memory. He's smiled to me, but that smile has been cruel. What have I told about _magnificance_? About the majority of poor people; but there are the minority, which include Vincent Phantomhive. For God's sake, for something you hold dear, don't connect with them. They don't just draw you, but destroy your life, blight you slowly; it's very hard to resist their hellish charm, and almost impossible to escape from the captivity. They're _demons_ themselves, fierce and horribly great. Invading into your soul, demons don't let you off and make you obedient. They know their attractiveness and put it to use. If you get involved with a demon, finish him off, crush, annul utterly, before he'll do this with you. Demons' wounds will never close, believe me please. Don't be a puppet in his hands, and don't dare to die with his name, adoring the puppeteer till the end—

"I was on post that night", Angeline continued. "But thank God, Ciel saved, but he got lost for a whole month, and his injures—"

"Ciel?"

"Please Sebastian, Ciel is Rachel's son!" Angeline said indignanly.

Ah, precisely... Our first bout took place on the same day. He was only two. Just a splitting image of his Mummy: shiny eyes and breachy nature. I didn't forget a tuft of my hair which he wrested (all right, to be offended by children was silly). And then Ciel was skirring around the room and crying. What a crap! Babies were always yucky. A hundred to one that he grew the copy of Rachel.

"We rented rooms together, but—" Anne stumbled bluntly, and I glanced on her bags. She embarassed and explained:

"The host had expelled us yesterday, and we spent the night at his neighbours. Ciel is at school now, and I must find a new room".

I catched her sight and realized that she remembered the beginning of the converse.

"Brer, I don't wanna you think I'm courting—"

"Don't worry", I said mildly, "My house is big, and there are too many extra rooms for a lonely man. You may live here as long as you wish. And I shall not get bored".

"How could I thank you!" Anne amazed. Did she really think I wouldn't invite her?

"Hmm..." I pretented as if I was supporsing. "You will pay half of my bills".

"Righto!"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

Anne took out the mobile phone (red, of course) and called Ciel. I heard his high words and was jelaous of sis's patience. Seemingly, she disturbed the nephew betimes the lessons. I didn't say but wanted to slap his face for such an act. But soon he sang small as if he felt my menace, and started rumbling something inaudible for my ears.

"Ciel's lessons will end at seven, and then he'll arrive on the tube", Anne said, hiding the phone into her pocket. She looked being hurt. "I told him your address".

"Does he always speak with you thus?" I asked angrilly.

"How can you!" She waved her hands. "Ciel is just a little nervous and hot-tempered".

Angeline sat on the bags. She quite grew dim and looked down at wet asphalt.

"Truly, he has never been like he is now. It's begun after his parents' death. He's become too reserved and unwelcome. But he's very smart and serious too, especially in the aim to revenge for".

"Are you saying?.. For parents?!"

"Why did you become so wrathful?" she amused.

"Please, what is revenge at his age?"

"Ask him, not me".

"Don't you understand it's absurd? As a guardian and just an aunt, you should bring him up in right way".

"Please don't judge my methods of upbringing", she said strictly. "And he's unreceptive to anything".

"He hates the world, doesn't he? Oh goddess... But what about the common sence?" I couldn't calm down. "Does he know the culprits? Does he have money, people—"

"Stop, brer, if you want to speak up, so tell this truth to his face, but not to mine!" Anne jumped up from the bags and turned her back to me. "Where in hell is the bus?"

We're not on speaking terms with sis during the ride. She preferred to take offence to me for my unkind speeches about the boy with a dead soul. Revenge, hah, was the most disgusting wish from all which could exist. A vengeful man found the world too sick and loathsome, not thinking about his own smut. I hardly understood what was going on in the child's soul, if revenge could drive mad reasonable adults. Did he even think he would be strangled by that impetious wish before it came true?

* * *

"Wow-wow, brer, your house is wonderful!"

Mum told she'd been astonished when she settled here for the first time, and I considered Anne had the same feeling. Undoubtedly, moving from prim classic arrangement to new wave rooms couldn't stay unnoticed. The whole ground floor included a hall, a kitchen, a dining- and drawing-rooms at once, and there were no sight of any zones. The walls were painted in grey, shelves and lamps were coal, and kitchen furniture shined from white as foam blaze. A light-green sofa and some bright armchairs around the coffee-table completed the composition at the centre of the room. Everything looked stylish but old and frail enough because the house needed the renewal. But the first floor hadn't any design — a long light hallway and five identical doors, and the bedrooms behind them were odd and almost empty. But either me, or my tenants managed without any luxuries except a good bed, a desk and a wardrobe. Excess prevented the dreams, I thought. And I had too many ambiguous dreams.

"Sebastian, I wanna ask something", Anne stopped on stairs. "Do you have a cat?"

"You know I love them, but still don't have. And why are you asking?"

I had never had my own cat and had always slept and seen dozens of those fluffy demons. I remembered at that time I'd been going to visit a pet-shop before I met Angeline.

"Righto, I must say you have to wait a while until we'll come down. Ciel has an allergy".

Oh, please tell me it wasn't true. I was about to hate that Ciel! He's irritating me even a great way off! Might I not to take him in lodgers, please?

But of course no, I even had to make a dinner for my new family, and for Ciel too, while Anne was tossing down the room. It was already half past seven, but the little wretch didn't deign to come. She was almost crying as he finally called at eight, when feeble sparks of lanterns were blinking at depthless dark.

"You're going afoot? Are you in your mind, have you seen the time? I've told you to take the tube! Why don't you... again?"

Her voice died away, and I stepped up flatly.

"Where are you? Stay here, Ciel, I'll catch a taxi. No, please stay here and wait! Ciel! Hear me out!"

"May I talk to him?" I asked, reaching for the phone, but was just ignored.

"Ciel? Hey-hey, keep it down. I know you don't like to be cared, but it's late evening now and you're in huge city. Please, Ciel".

To my surprise, her expression became lighter. With a relieved sigh, Anne finished the conversation:

"All right. Wait me, I'm catching a taxi", she kissed the phone and seized her coat. I asked:

"May I be curious? What's up, why hasn't he arrive on the tube?"

"You know, Ciel is very weak, and he's bullied by his mates. He comes home with new bruises almost everyday. And today these ones have taken away all his money".

"But why don't you decide this problem? It would be enough to transfer him to another school". I didn't show I was a bit happy.

"He always retires! He says he's got used to it, and they don't disturb the studying", sis explained. "Oh, I remember his return after the fire. He's been hit everywhere, and doesn't still have a view with the right eye. I think it's one of the reasons".

Why did I wonder the brat was planning the second revenge? But of course, I didn't say it too. Angeline hurried up with a taxi, and I stayed alone.

I had to suppress my blind hostility, just blind, because I hadn't seen Ciel yet. But who was he? His behavior and aims deprived me of all rest.

I wanted seeing him. At that moment it was possible only on photos from old shabby album, brought by Angeline. There might be early ones, made by Henri, and new ones with Ciel.

I wasn't wrong — the album started from the black-and-white photos, dated the 80s. My sisters and I were playing in the garden, hugging each other, and drawing faces with great pleasure. I was nine when I was entangled in Rachel's dress, and fourteen-years-old Angeline posed near among the bushes of licorice. Then it was Halloween, I was perfoming at school, and sisters were sitting in the hall, made up perfectly for such a party. A bit later — Anne and Rachel were photographing in the college by their own hands; Anne was compared by height with me — I was younger, but taller; and I once again, trying look like John Lennon with long hair and a guitar; Rachel's prom and her blue dress. Hereafter her outfit was changed into white one: there was her wedding with demon Vincent. I had never seen those photos, but I began to flip the pages faster, when I saw a baby on Rachel's hands.

At the one half of the pictures immature Ciel was clasping about Mum and Dad, and Angeline looked terribly lonely nearby them; and at the another half he was shot with cherubic blond girl. They seemed being so blessed together, and as soon as I was going to turn the page, I heard the foot-fail and the voices.

"It's snowing now, have you seen?.." Anne crooned, shaking off white flakes. "Ciel, greet Sebastian".

"Good everning", a rather rude young voice resounded, and his owner appeared from aunt's back.

I could try to divide the first impression and further observations. If I'd concentrate on Feb 20th, I'd noticed he was extremely thin and pale, and that's why the blue of his single eye seemed brusque; and he also had a ring of the same colour, and black nails, and a round eyepatch; the brows were knitted, the ear was pierced four times, and the lip was bleeded. Then Ciel gave his coat to aunt, and I saw he had never worn long pants. It would be shocking if I didn't stare at him, even knowing he got annoyed by that.

"M-dame, why this bulky guy rolled his eyes out on me? It's harsh", he said with arrogance.

I recovered at the moment and passed him into the room, chirping something salutatory. Ciel casted an insolent glance on me and blowed his ebony fringe from the eye.

"Are you hungry? We have a salmon", Anne said cheerfully.

He nodded mutely and leaned back on the chair, keeping firmly his black backpack. Sis began rattling by dishes, and I declaimed:

"I made a cake for all of you, I hope you like nuts".

"Took it out", Ciel responded without any abashment and the right of disagreement.

"How you dare!" Angeline cut up rough, but Ciel answered in the same way:

"Don't worry, Madame, I'll put a piece for you aside".

And then he closed his eye, and smiled as his proud father was smiling. A worthly heir of the Phantomhives, you terrific demon.

* * *

In the cold evening of Feb 24th, Anne reached me when I was cleaning all the boots. She said I was nothing else to do and I should put the boots on their place. I was repeating her question for a great while: "What are you doing, Sebastian?"

Really, I was about to get lost in the fog for those four days, without understanding of my activities. How silly I was, telling about my experience in housekeeping! Ciel felt like a boss immediately and had the confidence of me. And gosh, I became too trouble-free towards that brat! You like _this_ room? Sure, you can take it, but let me transfer my stuff. My cakes are awesome, you say? Oh, thanks, o-oh, you want me to bake them everyday! You've injured again, may I... right, I may not.

I admit I was walking on the edge, and one wrong movement could destroy me. The demon bewitched me, it was true, but I wasn't going to give up. I would remind the episode of a chess game between Ciel and Anne, and thereat I finally focused.

Ciel was moving his black figures so confidently, even self-confidently, that his aunt was at an impasse at every turn. He claimed haughtily about dead pawns and a steady king, pushing down Anne's bishops and rooks with a paucity of his own 'pawns'. He checkmated his opponent by a knight the sixtieth time, and said:

"Ah, M-dame, you haven't defend your king again. Of course, you've lost".

Yes, Ciel, you were a king, the main figure of the game called _life_. But you made youself only a chessman in vain, because there was someone who ruled the match, and the king couldn't avoid the subdual too. I'd become your ruler. I'd take over all combinations of your _fate_. The king would be threatened only due to _my_ game playing; and you'd lapse soon thro _my own_ will. Oi, Ciel, you'd never know you became my tractable _pawn_, and after the checkmate you'd fall at the same place, where your valets were laid low long ago. That difficult game was worth it. I had always achieved my goals, despite any obstacles, and I didn't want to stop halfway. You'd believed I was a witless novice in fact, but I just grew into my _role_, ha-ha. You hadn't known yet, but my practice in close fellowship might be the main method.

Where in earth was I, touching at my ex-room at the same night? Just saw a light and went to find Ciel reading in the bed. He made my knees tremble and hands sweat even I'd looked through at him. He was staring at me slightly scornfully, when I came, but wasn't trying to hide. But there was a reason: I could see every outlines of his body under the fine texture of his nightie, and Ciel had never seemed so delicate to me for all the time. He was a child, of course, and I knew the demon would suffer from my insult, if I encroached upon his reachless, because I wanted to dispose of him and just wanted him, without regard to our kinship.

"What are you doing here?" Ciel asked, looking up from the book.

"It's too late for reading".

"If three o'clock is too late for you, so, you may go to your Uncle Ned. You get on my wick all day long, don't you think?"

How tough of him being so smug. But I'd show he'd wallow at my feet.

"Oh, if you're still here, bring me a cup of Rosie—"

"I'm afraid I'm leaving, because you've said me to go to bed", I noticed in time, and grinned.

"You Khyber", Ciel cursed, thinking I didn't understand, and lowered the eye in the book (Schiller's plays, if I was right).

"You're so cute when you swear like a Cockney bitch".

He threw the pillow in me, and I laughed outside the door, while Ciel was raging. Sure, he'd be totally mine and totally fallen!

_What are you doing, Sebastian..._


End file.
